The Ruling Impulses

by Francesco Portone

  The social carrier stop was only a few steps away, so, in any case, the delay would be limited. She lingered to sniff at some begonias sprouting from large vases arranged in a single row for ornamental purposes. She accepted the invitation of a peddler who urged her to taste a mixture of boiled cereals that vaguely resembled couscous. And it wasn't that bad. A little too salty, maybe. She absentmindedly bumped an old man who apologized for the inconvenience by taking off his cap and bowing. Lucinda smiled and raised her hand to reassure him it was all right. Near the stop there was a girl with a somewhat grimy look, sat on the pavement with her legs crossed, leaned with her back to the public lighting pole. She was shaking a small box containing little plastic-coated portraits, similar to tarot cards. Good luck, good luck, everybody!, she kept telling passersby. She had a mischievous grin and bright green, penetrating eyes. Lucinda walked past her and left her a five-credit card she had in her pocket. The girl rejoiced and encouraged her to squat down to pick a card from the deck and try her luck, with the promise that it would rocket to the highest levels. Lucinda refused gracefully: «I'm already pretty lucky», she justified herself, with a hint of irony.

  During the ride, she had a tingle. Seeing William always led her to an anxiety which was hard to decipher, bitter and sweet at once. The journey was cheered up by a couple of musicians with whom Lucinda talked pleasantly. The gentleman had mustache and slicked hair and wore a tuxedo which was supposed to be elegant, but that turned out to be a bit kitschy; the lady wore a very refined gray dress, garnished with a fake fox fur scarf and hair tied behind her head with a hair clip. They talked about how tiring, yet very rewarding, it was going around playing: gratification in receiving the consent of the audience, having the chance to do what they loved; in short, they gave the idea of being in peace with themselves. Lucinda was a little envious. She used to torment herself, living in a state of perennial, moderate, dissatisfaction. There was always that little something missing to allow her to fully enjoy her life's events. She had not yet reached that balance which allowed her to make decisions with conviction and then pursue them without looking back. Even though she faked self-confidence, she was full of remorse. And when, on the contrary, she met someone who instilled that sense of fulfillment, she was pervaded by a mixture of adoration and regret.

  Joseph and Clara, the two musicians, he xylophonist, she pianist, left the coach one stop before Lucinda, near Rover Avenue. They made her promise that at the next show at the Milton Theater, in December, she would also be there to admire them.

  At “Awareness Square” stop, Lucinda left the metal snake and continued on foot; it was just a few more steps, all in all. She put her hands in her pockets and walked slowly, with no hurry. She frequented Garmstein Park quite regularly, she went there very often for jogging. It was the real green lung of the city. Guild of Construction wanted it to be well cared and tidy and a swarm of gardeners and maintenance workers did their utmost every day to make it neat and welcoming. Lucinda had befriended one of them, Gerald Malone, an aged man, tall and thin, with a slightly hollow face and white hair that formed a sort of halo behind his head. He spent most of his time taking care of plants and flowers, and whenever Lucinda met him he was bent over to fix something, pruning, putting the flowerbeds back in shape.

  «Good morning Miss Linda», he said, when she was just a few feet away from him. Gerald used to call her Linda. There was no way to make him pronounce the name exactly. Lucinda at first had corrected him, with the necessary tact, but, given the repeated occurrence of that mistake, she had abandoned the idea with time.

  «Hello Gerald, your plants smell really good today», she replied, although she knew that the ones the gardener had his hands on were just synthetic geraniums. Part of the plants in the park was artificial, so as to soil less and last longer.

  Gerald winked. «You know, it's all thanks to experience», he added proudly. «I've worked in this garden for almost twenty years and everything must always be perfect.»

  «And it shows», Lucinda congratulated.

  Gerald straightened up and wiped the dust off his work jacket to make himself presentable. He approached her but did not hold out his hand as it was still a bit dirty.

  «Aren't you in a hurry today?», he asked with an insinuating tone. Lucinda thought a little before answering.

  «Hmm, no, I'm taking my time today. One must relax once in a while.»

  Gerald nodded. He looked at her slightly sideways and was somewhat puzzled by her clothing.

  «Miss, your fiancé is already waiting for you», the gardener told her, pointing his right thumb to a place behind him. Lucinda judged it unnecessary to clarify that, if ever they had been in the past, at that time William and her were not engaged. She behaved evasively.

  «Oh, great, thank you. I think I'll stay a little longer to admire these beauties», she said referring to some petunias. Gerald frowned. «They must be rare», said Lucinda, without much conviction.

  «Not that much», the gardener said. «If you're interested in something really unusual, I suggest you take a look over there.»

  He pointed to the opposite side of the path.

  «You can find very rare roses unearthed in a corner of Siberia», he proudly specified.

  Lucinda accepted the suggestion and moved to the other side - about twenty paces - to have a look. She put her hands behind her back as if she did not want to do unintentional damage. The roses, of a blue color, had been arranged to form the governmental symbol of the half moon.

  «And how did they bring them here?», Lucinda shouted from afar.

  «I don't know!», he shouted back. «I just know they mean a lot to them. Each year they make a contest with the counties of Morrow Creek and Duggan and Delegate Parker wants to win. If they're happy that way...», commented Gerald, not particularly interested in the subject.

  Lucinda lingered for a minute or two, then returned to the starting point. Gerald took a moment to stare at her; right hand on his side and back of his left hand wiping away the sweat.

  «Miss, I don't think it's a good idea to make him wait any longer», he said winking.

  Lucinda was a little annoyed by his intrusiveness, but preferred to let it go.

  «I'm leaving right now, Gerald. It was a pleasure seeing you again.»

  William was getting impatient. He drummed on the bench, huffed, opened and repeatedly closed a packet of cigarettes picked from a park vending machine. He looked around: there was not a living soul. He was surprised. He did not usually spend much time at Garmstein Park, yet he would expect it to be teeming with life. She saw Lucinda coming and pretended not to notice her until she was right under his nose.

  «Here I am!», she said.

  «Hey!», he replied, standing up. He scanned her from head to toe. One of his usual impulses made him hold her tight in his arms. Lucinda let him do it for a while, but then drew back from the hug.

  «Nice suit», said ironically William. He would have preferred something less understated; clothing could say a lot about a woman's intentions. Something more dressy would have probably revealed that she wanted to win him back.

  «It's comfy.»

  «Hmm. Let's take a walk.»

  «Later, maybe.»

  So they sat down. William looking in her direction, leaning his left leg on the bench; Lucinda in profile, looking straight, with her legs crossed. They were silent for a few seconds.

  «It's quiet here», he said to get over that awkward situation.

  «Well, it's usually a busy place when I go running.»

  Lucinda noticed the packet of cigarettes.

  «Have you started smoking again?»

  William smiled. «I want to see how long I can do without giving in to temptation.»

  Lucinda didn't smile back.

  «May I ask you a question?», he said. «Why here and not at the Pub?»

  «That's your territory. This is mine.»

  That time she laughed.

  William then sat prop
erly, parallel to her.

  «So that's what it's come to. We get back at each other», he said, with no intention of arguing. She didn't reply.

  «How do you feel?», she asked instead.

  «Pretty good.»

  «You don't look like it.»

  «Thanks, you're very kind.»

  Lucinda took out a cigarette.

  «And you never stopped, as far as I can see.»

  Lucinda pursed her lips.

  «I don't feel like quitting right now.»

  William was beating around the bush, but finally he decided to ask her the question he had in mind since they arranged to meet.

  «Just curious, are you seeing someone?»

  Lucinda turned to her left, nodding sarcastically. Then she looked into his eyes with a hint of resentment.

  «Do you want to know if I've had sex recently?»

  William stayed silent and a little depressed.

  «Bill, do you think I'm a clockwork doll you can wind up at will? I still have scars and I don't know when they'll go away.»

  William stood up.

  «Maybe it wasn't a good idea.»

  «Bill, sit down.» She sighed. «Sit down.»

  Lucinda scratched her head. «I'm a little touchy these days... it's not a good time», she justified herself.

  Man, tell me about it, William thought, nodding.

  «Work?»

  «A bit of everything, I believe.»

  «I too find myself in a situation that I'd call paradoxical. But I don't feel like talking about it, maybe one day I'll tell you.»

  Lucinda smiled with spontaneity.

  «I'll never understand if you do this to protect others or just yourself.»

  «There's a third option», William suggested slyly.

  «Which one?»

  «I'm arrogant. I don't give a damn about problems. Whenever I can, I try to think of something positive.»

  He then made a well calibrated pause. «Think of you, for example.»

  Lucinda bowed her head, looking away.

  «Thank God you still know how to blush.»

  She then made an exclamation of skepticism, to shift attention to another topic.

  «Ah! God. God is an outdated concept, I already told you. It only serves to sell some figurines in some store or to enrich the preachers. We must rely on ourselves and let go of those distractions.»

  «Don't you dare.» William cautioned. «Don't even try. What remains for me is my faith, my land and faith in my land. I will never give up on this. I won't let anyone change my mind.»

  Lucinda gave up immediately, raising her hands. She lit the cigarette she had been fiddling with for a couple of minutes.

  «Who comforted me when my father died?», William continued. «Who gives me comfort when pangs make my head explode? Who comforted me when Militia came to pick me up?»

  William raised his left index finger to the sky.

  «He. Call him what you like: God, Divine Providence, Fate. Every night He makes me believe that there's a better future for this land. That the day will come when we will no longer have to fear anything, to worry about how we walk, what we say, to whom we say it.»

  Lucinda listened in silence, then, with a satisfied look, she rejoiced for William. She had forgotten how those speeches activated him, urged him to react, to fight. She had always reproached him for a certain detachment, a certain superficiality in managing things and human relationships, but whenever the concepts of hope and faith came into play, he lighted up like a candle.

  «Have you ever noticed?», Lucinda reasoned, digressing. «If you just go take a walk without purpose, and watch the flow of life in this city, it seems that everything is going in the right direction. That there's no weirdness or ugliness. Yes, maybe sometimes you see some militiamen hitting someone, but nothing so dramatic. Then one day, you happen to confront yourself with them and understand how things really go.»

  William leaned forward, resting his chin on the palm of his right hand.

  «Wanna know what's the worst dictatorship?», he said. «Having the perception of being free.»

  Lucinda nodded.

  «I'll give you an easy example. I took this packet of cigarettes from the vending machine. Apparently it was my will, my choice. Too bad you find hundreds of those machines all over the city. A day or two pass, but sooner or later you happen to stick your card in the slot and buy one packet. You see what I mean?»

  Lucinda slightly waved her head left and right.

  «You're going the long way around, but I got the reference.»

  She pointed to the cigarette she was smoking.

  «They want to give you the impression that you can do whatever you want but instead it's them who are in control», she murmured, blowing a puff of smoke.

  «Exactly. And the worst mistake we can make is to allow them to manipulate us at will», William concluded, looking around to make sure there were no people passing by.

  The dialogue heavily derailed. It was not the intention of either of them to engage in a discussion on politics or social problems. They already had their issues to handle. The long wave of their relationship had led to irreversible effects over time. Whenever they tried to get closer, the disagreements and misunderstandings grew exponentially. Theirs was a perverse symbiosis, they both were aware of having the need to lean on each other, yet every time they got in touch some friction occurred, and that irreparably led to a new fracture.

  As they talked, William was developing an idea that could turn things around. Something that had always made both of them skeptical, given their difficult relationship. The chance to give a turn to their lives and finally reach a certain stability. Besides, as the minutes passed, Lucinda looked more and more relaxed. It could be a good time, she seemed to be malleable, perhaps even vulnerable. Therefore, he decided to shift the conversation and speak openly.

  «Lucy, listen: why don't you come and stay with me? I can't move from Milton Avenue, but you have no restrictions. I don't think they would make a fuss over such a thing. My attic is small, but there's enough room for two and you could furnish it any way you like.»

  William was not a great poker lover, yet on that occasion he decided to play an all in, well aware he could lose everything. Lucinda shook her head bitterly.

  «Bill... I don't think it's a good idea. We still have to figure out...», she paused, «if there can be a future for us.»

  William took her hand in a somewhat rough manner.

  «I'll never hurt you again, I swear. I feel a lot better now.»

  Lucinda disagreed once more.

  «You can't assure me. I know you really think so and you'll try, but it doesn't just depend on you.»

  She paused again and looked the other way.

  «It doesn't just depend on you», she repeated. «Not anymore.»

  William loosened his grip and leaned back on the bench.

  «I see. The romance is over.»

  «I do not know. I just know that neither of us can promise anything right now.»

  William stood up abruptly, like he was operated by a remote control. He put his hands in his pockets, got near a stone and kicked it violently. Lucinda instinctively withdrew. Fearing an escalation of anger, she opened her mouth to beg him to maintain self-control, but she could not produce a single syllable. He then came back and looked her in the eye again, expressing an unjustified hatred.

  «Understood! We do it your way. We always do it your way. It never matters what I want!», he shouted. «I gave myself to you body and soul, but it was not enough. It's never enough for you!», he said, clenching his right fist. Lucinda paled. All her physical and athletic training, the ability to face and defeat bad guys in a hypothetical fight, were of no use against an arrow shot with disdain, which made your heart explode and left you moaning on the floor.

  «Bill, please...», she tried to say in a faint voice, but was immediately attacked.

  «It's all talk. You're always all talk and no action.
Never a concrete decision. Never taking a clear stand.»

  William began to fidget like a mad dog and rant. It seemed that he was railing against himself rather than talking to Lucinda. The young woman stayed silent, hoping the storm might pass as soon as possible. She checked both ends of the street, almost more worried that people might witness that outburst than she was afraid for her own safety.

  Not yet satisfied, and with the taste of gall in his mouth, William made things worse.

  «Don't call me if you're not ready to take any responsibility!»

  Lucinda already saw that movie before, yet each time she got hurt. Exhausted, she gathered the last of her strength and left without adding anything. William made a futile attempt to stop her.

  «Lucy don't go. Lucinda!»

  He stood motionless, watching her slip away, aware that he could do nothing. He didn't have to do anything. Hadn't he done too much already? After such an outburst - not the first and probably not the last - could he ask or demand anything else? How many other chances could Lucinda give him before formalizing the inescapable truth: they could never have a future together?